


A Fragile Peace

by 30MinuteLoop



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30MinuteLoop/pseuds/30MinuteLoop
Summary: Hugh Culber is back on Discovery. During dinner with Paul in the mess hall, he's reminded that the more things change, the more they stay the same.





	A Fragile Peace

Hugh’s waiting at the door to the mess hall when Paul arrives, promptly at 1800. Although they’ve become accustomed to eating in their quarters since Hugh’s return, Hugh misses the camaraderie of the mess hall. Paul leans in for a greeting kiss, another thing Hugh’s gotten used to since he’s returned from the network, returned from death. “How are you doing?” Paul asks quietly.

“Hungry,” he replies, squeezing Paul’s hand before leading the way into the mess hall.

They grab food from the synthesizer, and Hugh leads the way to what’s become his preferred spot, a table by the door with him facing out so he can see who’s coming in. It feels safer, and also has the benefit of him being able to see the people around him.

Hugh sits, putting his tray on the table, and contemplates his soup. Suddenly he doesn’t feel hungry anymore. The noise of so many people talking, laughing, eating, and moving around is beginning to overload his brain.

“You okay?” Paul puts down his tray and covers Hugh’s hand with his own, looking down at him.

“Yeah.” Hugh tries to give him a reassuring smile, but he catches a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye that sets his heart racing. It’s just another crew member getting up, but the rush of adrenaline overwhelms him and he closes his eyes. His hands clench.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Paul says softly, and Hugh can hear and feel him crouching down in front of him, still with his hand laying on top of what is now Hugh’s fist. “I’m here. Can you give me a few deep breaths?”

Hugh nods and tries to relax into the darkness behind his eyes, concentrating on bringing air into his lungs, feeling his shoulders roll back, and breathing out.

He’s safe, he’s home, he’s alive.

The noise around him fades.

Paul’s hand is warm on his.

The onions in his soup are wafting a delicious smell into his nose.

He can breathe. In the network, if there was even really air to begin with, it was damp, stuffy.

The air on a starship is so pure.

After a couple of minutes of concentrating on his senses, he feels ready to face the room again.

Paul’s still crouched in front of him, watching him carefully, with an open and heartfelt expression Hugh rarely sees outside of their quarters, even after everything they’ve been through. He squeezes Hugh’s now relaxed hand.

“We can go home if you want.”

“No,” Hugh says. He takes another deep breath, pushing away another image of darkness in the network. “I really do want to be here.”

He wishes he didn’t feel so fragile every second of the day. It’s exhausting. He knows why it happens, and he knows why he craves being around people even though crowds are also so difficult to tolerate. Knowing all of those facts still doesn’t make it easier to handle this new him, how his entire composure can crumple at any second and ruin the way he wants to carry himself at work and with Paul and with his friends.

Paul gazes at him with so much fondness that Hugh is momentarily taken aback by him, this Paul with new heightened levels of sincerity. “So do I.”

“Eat your sandwich,” Hugh says, sliding his hand out from under Paul’s, suddenly uncomfortable with being the focus of Paul’s close attention. “Stop helping me make a scene.”

Paul sits and they start eating. Hugh is still not quite hungry; he gets to his third spoonful of soup as Paul’s already halfway through his sandwich.

Something catches Paul’s eye down the row of tables, and he puts the sandwich down. “Tilly looks really upset.”

He’s right. Tilly’s sitting at a table alone, facing the wall, and her face is bright red as she reads her padd.

“Let me go check on her,” Paul says, already getting up.

The way Paul is now everyone’s emotional support is jarring. While Hugh’s been gone, the crew seems to have formed new bonds that he’s missed out on. He missed so much. Like how his absence made Paul softer. A bit more like he was just after he injected himself with that damn tardigrade DNA, actually. But in a way that doesn’t come across as some chemical or biological high - more like this is Paul now. His heart hurts at the thought that it took this level of trauma to get Paul to open up.

By the time Hugh realizes that he’s spaced out, Paul is back with Tilly. “I invited her to come sit with us,” he says sheepishly. “But I said you have veto power. Do you feel like having a dinner guest?”

Tilly waves awkwardly.

“Of course,” Hugh says, and means it. Paul grabs a chair for Tilly and puts it between the other two chairs. Tilly squeezes her tray halfway onto the table, enough to balance it.

“Thank you,” she says, equally sheepishly. “I - I’m not having a great day.”

“What’s wrong?” Hugh asks.

“So I went on a couple of dates with Ensign - oh, crap, no, I can’t tell you who.” She’s turning red again. “Um. They - sent me this message a few hours ago. And it seems really bad?”

Paul holds out his hand. Tilly taps a few things on the padd, maybe to hide who sent the message, and hands him the padd. Just like that. Hugh is once again floored.

Paul reads the message and starts smiling.

“Oh, no, this is good,” he tells her. “They’re busy, that’s all.”

“ _Paul Stamets_. Do you give dating advice now?” Hugh demands.

“Look, I think I know a few things by now. How to flirt, how to date long-distance, how to date during a war, how to…” He trails off. “I know a few things. I got you, after all.”

“Paul.” Hugh fixes him with what he hopes is a withering look, but he can’t help smiling a little. “You cannot be giving people dating advice.”

“What?” he replies defensively, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t think so?”

“Two weeks before I was supposed to come see you on Deneva, you thought it was perfectly okay to send me a message that said, exclusively, ‘We need to talk soon,’ and then be unreachable on a research trip for three days.” That still makes Hugh’s heart hurt.

Paul blushes. “I’m still very sorry. I wanted to talk about the plans for your visit. I don’t think that invalidates any knowledge I might have.”

“I do.” Hugh looks over at Tilly. She’s grinning through her obvious embarrassment. “I thought you were going to break up with me. I’d never been so scared in my entire life.” This is an recurring discussion - Hugh cannot pass up an opportunity to remind Paul to communicate like a human being. “Tilly, do you want a second opinion on that message?”

She finishes her bite of fried rice, takes the padd from Paul, and hands it over to Hugh.

The message reads:

> _Hey, sorry I missed you last night. I was just really tired and fell asleep. But I’m busy for a while with the new shift rotation, so I don’t know when I can reschedule. Sorry!_

Hugh frowns. “If they really wanted to see you, they’d find the time, Tilly. Or at least tell you when they were free next.”

“If they didn’t want to see her, they wouldn’t send her a message at all,” Paul retorts. “They’re probably just overwhelmed at work.”

Hugh rolls his eyes, amused but exasperated. Sometimes he cannot _believe_ what a dense man he’s ended up with. “You never put me off like this,” he points out. “You’d always tell me when you could talk.”

“With you, of course. But I used to be more vague with other people I dated and -” Paul stops short. “I - oh.”

“See?” Hugh looks at the ensign and gestures toward Paul. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Give this person a few times you’re free, and if they just say no and don’t suggest any new times, they’re probably brushing you off. Sorry.”

Tilly nods. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense.” She looks at Paul. “Sorry, I think I agree with Dr. Culber.”

Paul sighs. “He’s probably right.”

“Thank you, both of you. I’d probably just be spinning this around in my head uselessly all evening without you.” She finishes her last few bites of fried rice and stands up. “I’m going to go for a walk, burn off some of this nervous energy.” She picks up her tray and looks between them. “It’s so good to have you both back,” she says quietly, ducking her head as she makes her exit.

Hugh watches her return her tray to the synthesizer, and then turns back to Paul.

“I haven’t seen you smile that much since you came home,” Paul says with satisfaction.

“I haven’t seen you be that much of a dumbass since I came home,” Hugh retorts.

Paul looks affronted but then he smiles more broadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a combination of sadness and joy. “I missed this so much.”

“Me too.”

It’s so good to be home.


End file.
